


Five Conversations Crawley and Aziraphale Definatley Had Over the Years and One That Was Definitely Had About Them

by MaxSpencer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aziraphale Is A Cinnamon Roll, Crowley Is More Angelic Than He’d Like To Believe, Dining At The Savoy, Gabriel Is A Celestial Half Wit, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Michael Is So Done, They Love Each Other (Also The Sky Is Blue)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxSpencer/pseuds/MaxSpencer
Summary: What it says on the tin.





	Five Conversations Crawley and Aziraphale Definatley Had Over the Years and One That Was Definitely Had About Them

**_One_ **

Aziraphale had let himself into Crowley’s flat.*

“What is it, Angel?” Crowley sounded concerned.

He tried for exasperated but it came out firmly concerned again. He discided Hell had better things to do than smite him.

“It’s the Gavotte, it’s gone out of style.”

“It had to hpen eventually, Angel. I did try to keep it going but it got harder and harder.”

Crowley was breaking all sorts of rules comforting an angel. Then again he was breaking all sorts of rules by falling in love with said angel, so it hardly mattered really.

Aziraphale brightened a bit, “I say! Did you really?”

“Of course I did. Don’t thank me, I’ll get into trouble.”

Aziraphale kissed him. Crowley smiled dispite himself. He was, and not for the first time, incredibly greatful for divine ignorance.

“Come on,” Crowley offered his arm, “one last hurrah for the Gavotte.”

* * *

*This was unusual in that Aziraphale never let himself into Crowley’s flat. Crowley was always letting himself into Aziraphale’s flat but since the invention of non communal space Aziraphale had never once entered Crowley’s space without express invitation.

* * *

  ** _Two_**

“Angel?”

“Yes, Foul Feind?”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“But I say it with love.”

Crowley groaned.

“What do you want?”

“I forgot my towel, bring me one, will you?”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Angel.”

“I think you should come out here, all naked and dripping wet, and get one yourself.”

“Where did you learn to be so demonic, Angel?”

“From you, My Dear.”

Crowley chuckled and opened the bathroom door to find Aziraphale with a luxurious towel in his outstreached hand. He dodged Crowley’s attempts to take it. He kissed him quick and threw the towel at his face.

If you’d told either of them on the wall at Eden that, in six millenia or so they’d be sharing domestic bliss. It would have gone down, much like the whole apple buseness, like a lead balloon.

* * *

  ** _Three_**

One Sunday afternoon. Crowley is reading a newspaper (like the ageless divine being he is) while Aziraphale* was reading a (unisex) teen magazine.

“I say, Crowley, did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven.”

“You know it did. Worse than anything i could possibly have immagined. Worse than I thought anything ever could, and then I thought I lost you. Why?... Hold on, are you trying pick up lines on me again?”

“Perhaps.”

Crowley threw his empty tea cup at Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale caught it deftly and set it down next to his own.

“You do realise that those magazines are for teenagers, Angel? And you haven’t been a teenager sinse, literally, before time began?”

“Yes, I do know that, Crowley.”

“It beats me why you insist on reading them all of a sudden.”

“The twins gave them to me.”#

* * *

 *who is also an ageless divine being.

# ‘The Twins’ here, refers to Immogen and Notta Pulsifer-Device. They had always been known, for pun reasons, as Im Pulsifer and Notta Device. They are about fourteen at this point, having been conceived on the day of the failed apocalypse. This makes the year either c.2005 or c.2034, depending on which timeline you ascribe to.

* * *

  ** _Four_**

Aziraphale was looking in the bathroom mirror, prodding at a spot on his cheek.

“Crowley?”

“What is it, Angel?”

“Come and look at this. I’ve got a spot.”

“What kind of spot?”

“Come and look.”

Crowley obliged. He looked closely at the offending spot.

“Have I fallen, am I becoming a demon?”

“You’d know if you’d fallen, trust me.”

Then, just to make him feel better Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s cheek before going back to inspect the offending spot. He sniffed it, then licked it, then lughed*

“It’s chocolate, Angel.”

Crowley sucked the rest of it off.

Aziraphale dissolved into angelic giggles. Collapsing onto Crowley’s shoulder.

* * *

 *It was a slightly angelic laugh, or perhaps it was just human. It definitely wasn’t demonic.

* * *

  ** _Five_**

They were dining at The Savoy, not The Ritz for a change. They had the best table. Someone very important had cancelled as they arrived. If there was ever a time they were going to get away with it, it was now.

“Angel?”

“Yes, My Dear.”

“We’ve been through a lot together…”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Don’t know, seems like the time for a montage showing just how much we’ve been through.”

“I could conjure one up if you like.”

“No, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you.”

“Angel.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe, now that  head offices are off our backs for a while, you might want to get married.”

“Crowley, I… you have to ask me properly.”

“You mean, like this?”

As Crowley got down on one knee a choir and a small orchestra came in and the waitstaff started dancing The Gavotte.

“Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, Keeper of Divine Secrets. Light of my life, will you marry me?”

Aziraphale hadn’t meant to cry.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Nobody important had cancelled  their reservation. Crowley had made the reservation himself, properly, by going in and asking when that specific table was free. And, by the way, he needed all the waitstaff to learn an antiquated and slightly silly dance to do when the choir and small orchestra started up. It had been as long a wait as it was to have a baby. It was just as well, because the reservation happened to fall exactly three weeks after Armageddon. When they would either be fighting on opposing sides in the war to end everything, utterly destroyed by the forces of heaven and hell, or they’d be out from under their respective head offices for a while.

* * *

  ** _And One_**

“You know,” said Gabriel. One day far later than one would have expected, I think those two might be _fraternising_ down there.”

It was at that moment, Michael looked more disappointed than she had in the entire existence of the universe.

“Might be… Gabriel, they’ve probably been at it, in a _biblical_ sense _,_ on and off since Eden.”*

“Shouldn’t we do something about it?”

“After the apocalypse fiasco? You first.”

* * *

 *They hadn’t been, but she wasn’t very far off.


End file.
